Sedition
by Websterjude
Summary: Charlie Lorenzo's career is circling the drain. Charming is her last chance to make it right but with SAMCRO standing between her and redemption will she succeed or will she make the same mistake twice?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Run This Town 

"**Life's a game but it's not fair. I break the rules so I don't care. So I keep doin' my own thing. Walking tall against the rain. Victory's within the mile. Almost there, don't give up now. Only thing that's on my mind. Is who's gonna run this town tonight." – Jay-Z feat. Rihanna**

Charlie loved to run. It helped burn off her infamous late night cravings like last nights four slices of pizza and beer. You would never guess it to look at her though; her body was athletic and slim. The kind of body no one was just born with and she worked hard for hers. That meant running, and lots of it. Truth be told she actually liked to do it, enjoyed the freedom it gave her. She lived for that feeling when her lungs felt like they might burst and her fingers started to tingle. It was just her against her own willpower. Her ear buds pumping loud beats into her ears, urging her on when she thought she couldn't go any further. Baraka at her side happily galloping along as his ears flopped and his tongue wagged along with his tail, making sure she kept pace.

It had been exactly 5 days since she had lugged everything she owned across the country in a trailer. Leaving her old apartment in Jersey for a quaint little house in the suburbs of California was a culture shock to say the least. It was a lot harder adjusting to the quiet than she expected… and the pizza? Well it just wasn't the same. The most noise she ever heard was the occasional thunderous sound of motorcycles passing in the distance. They reminded her a little of the chaos of traffic in her neighborhood and though the rumbling was decidedly deeper it made her smile every time. Save those moments, she was as strong as could be and you would never know to look at her that she felt like she didn't belong.

Instead Charlie stuck with her headphones, volume at full blast, which she once used to drown out the chaos of the city. Now she used them to cut the silence. Charming wasn't a big place so her long runs took her through most of the town at some point or another. That included the less than seemly parts of town most people would probably advise her not to run through alone. It didn't concern her in the least. She'd run in worse places and with her ninety-five pound pit-bull Baraka along, most people stayed far out of her way anyway.

After rounding a corner she saw the chain link fence of the Teller-Morrow garage. It had an ominous feel to it whenever she passed by that always made her want to run a little faster down that block. It was an urge she fought and resisted several times now. Charlie knew what went on there, had been warned about it by her boss. In fact it was the reason she took that route, though she would never admit it aloud.

Her dad always said it was better to face your fears head on. Advice, much to his dismay, she often took more literally than he'd intended. Facing down fear gave her a rush even better than running. Better than a lot of things she could think of… She would never call herself an adrenaline junkie though, because in her mind those people jumped out of planes and climbed impossibly steep cliff faces. No one did that kind of stuff where she grew up. They didn't need to. Real life was scary enough.

She'd passed by the lot at least half a dozen times already without incident and was beginning to think that maybe the myth was bigger than the reality. The place was usually busy with lots of coming and going. Nothing looked out of the ordinary to her though. Except of course those bikes she heard. This was where they came from. It was like their bat cave, only it was the bad guys in there not Bruce Wayne and Alfred. That and this cave wasn't tucked away in some hidden corner of a mansion. It was right out in the open. Like a drug dealer who left his keys in the ignition and walked away. Everyone knew better than to mess with them so hiding wasn't really necessary.

As she came up on the open gate she made a point of holding tight to the leash in her hand in case Baraka tried to wander. Squinting her eyes behind dark glasses she thinks she's sees someone coming, or were they waiting? The figure steps out suddenly and catches her off guard. He had caught the dog's interest as well and thusly found himself snagged in Baraka's leash. Charlie quickly pulled out her headphones to chastise her dog, which was happily sniffing the stranger, and stop him from tangling him up entirely.

"Sit." She spoke in a firm tone. He obediently sat in place eyeing the stranger with a grumble. "Sorry about that…I didn't see you coming." She lied, trying to be polite. Cursing out bikers for not watching where they were going was something even she knew better than to do.

The man was a good bit taller than her 5'6", with skin the color of caramel. Or at least his face was. The rest of him was too covered in tattoos to make out for certain _what_ was underneath. He wasn't a big bulky kind of guy like she expected but he still loomed large over her somehow. You could see there was muscle on him, but it was lean and taught. His bald head had a faintest hint of stubble on it and his dark eyes were almost black.

It surprised her that he didn't have a big beer gut or a long ponytail like she had pictured in her head. Charlie's idea of bikers came from watching too many movies. This guy was a lot more… Well attractive was her first thought, dangerous was her second. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt, jeans and a black leather vest with patches. He was… _really_ _one of them_ she thought as her breathe caught imperceptibly.

The biker reached a hand down to pat Bear on the head, "Nice Pit." he said without a smile. The teeth that began to show themselves with a silent snarl as his hand got closer changed his mind. "Friendly…" he noted, pulling his hand back slowly but without a hint of fear.

The stranger took the opportunity to take _her_ in now instead, unabashedly eyeing from toe to head. She was still on the right side of thirty but she was old enough to know that look and old enough to hate it. Wearing a pair of black bicycle shorts and a matching sports bra didn't leave much for his imagination either. The get-up sometimes got her more attention than she wanted but she usually passed them by too fast to notice.

Charlie worked hard for her body and wasn't going to let a few perverts embarrass her out of it. The fact that it would be less controversial to run around half naked if she were a man might have been a factor as well. Her sense of fairness was as unflinching as the look she gave the stranger. "He's a little over-protective." She tells him, attempting small talk.

"I would be too." he said appreciatively, almost under his breathe. She looked past him as work had seemed to come to a standstill in the lot. Everyone was watching them. This was definitely not good.

It was also not how she had hoped her first meeting with the Sons of Anarchy would play out. She liked to be on an even playing field with people like that and she sensed by the way everyone was staring that it was no accident he ran into her. "Gotta get going…" she nodded without a smile and jerked the leash to signal Baraka to follow.

She made it one step before he grabbed her shoulder, "Nice… ink." He said taking a better look at her back. Charlie was a fan of tattoos too. Her back looked like one big canvas that extended to the quarter sleeve of her right arm. To anyone else it might be a mess of pictures, words, symbols and colors. To her it was a story. The story of her life and although she had appreciated the camaraderie of the club it seemed the both belonged to, she _did not_ like being touched by strangers.

"What's your name?" he asked. His voice was scratchy and deep, the kind you would expect from a person who didn't give their vocal cords a whole lot of practice.

Baraka let out a harmless bark as she pulled his leash tighter to her. She was grateful for the dark pair of aviators she had on. Taking one look at him and then at the various men within the gates she smiled deviously at the joke she was sure she was out of the loop on, "Not interested."

Turing away she took off running again before he could stop her. "Bitch." the stranger uttered coolly. Charlie had put her ear buds back in though and was happily oblivious to his response. He turned to walk back to the garage as everyone quickly scrambled too look busy. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the guys, whose uniform read the name 'Juice', snicker at him and he made one quick step in that direction with his chest puffed out. Juice quickly put his head back under the hood of the car he had been working and the stranger stalked off.


	2. Chapter 2: Runaway

AN: Thanks so much for all the alerts and favorites guys! You all made my day I must confess when I started writing, this was going to be a Happy fic. Then the whole thing with Juice happened last week and I changed my mind. Now after last night I'm not sure about anything! Just going with it for now. Got awhile before it becomes an issue anyway. Let me know what you think though. Always glad to hear what people are thinking out there!

Chapter 2: Runaway

"**Let's have a toast for the douche bags. Let's have a toast for the assholes. Let's have a toast for the scumbags. Every one of them that I know. Let's have a toast for the jerk-offs. That'll never take work off. Baby, I got a plan. Run away fast as you can." – Kanye West**

Charlie had fucked things up royally back home. So bad she thought it might be irreparable. Worse than that though were the looks everyone had given her after it happened. People at work, he brothers, even her father looked at her with such disappointment it actually physically pained her. No one was angry. No one yelled. They all just had that look, so unbearable she took a job on the other side of the country to get away from it.

The moment her boss had dropped the transfer option on her desk she shot up out of her chair like a rocket, telling him she'd take it without a second thought. Her career was dead in the water anyway. No one wanted her anywhere. Charlie didn't even understand why Charming took her but she knew better than to question her good fortune. She would have taken a job in the pits of hell if it meant earning her father's respect back.

Sailing through town with the windows down and the radio up loud, Charlie was tapping along with the beat on her steering wheel. It was a big day, and yet a day like any other. There were no nerves as showered and dressed. No thoughts about whether people would like her as she made herself a cup of tea and a piece of toast. No worrying about whether she would get the good assignments or the crap ones as she packed her bag. None of that mattered. Not to someone who had nothing left to lose.

The sound of a repetitious thump that didn't match the rhythm of her personal percussion section jolted her back to the present. Turning off the stereo, she reached an ear out the window. Something was definitely wrong. Pulling over to the shoulder of the mostly vacant stretch of road, Charlie got out to find the source of the noise. Circling the car she took in the sight of the flat tire on her rear passenger side and sighed. "Fuck me…" she cursed aloud.

This streak of bad luck, it seemed, would not be letting up anytime soon. Leaning against the side of the car she pulled out her cell phone, knowing she had no one to call. As she opened her list of contacts, there were only two names. Charlie toggled between Mom and Work absently before sighing deeply and putting her phone in her back pocket. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breathe and stretched her shoulders forward one at a time, relieving the tension rapidly building there.

Just as she was about to reach for her bag to look for her roadside assistance card a tow truck pulled up behind her. She eyed it suspiciously, wondering what the odds were of being both that lucky and that unlucky simultaneously. Out of the truck stepped a tall guy, about her age, with a big scruffy beard and a ponytail. "Looks like you could use a hand." He said matter-of-factly.

He was a big guy, not overweight at all, just solid. Charlie was willing to bet he played football in high school and that he did his fair share of manual labor these days. Sizing strangers up like that was a bad habit she'd had since childhood and there was something about this guy that set off a faint alarm bell in the back of her mind. She made a quick mental note of his name tag and license plate before responding, "Yeah, I was just about to call." She told him, still cynical.

Opie, if that was his real name, nodded sympathetically in her direction. "Spare?" he asked casually looking everywhere but at her. It was funny the way she always noticed the guys who didn't notice her. She smiled a little behind his back before he turned to face her again.

Exhaling loudly she told him, "You're looking at it." A raised eyebrow was his only response so she added, "Been doing a lot of driving lately…" She shrugged at him, purposefully vague.

Opie just nodded, seemingly uninterested in her story until the cherry blossoms inked on her shoulder caught his attention. "On my way back to the garage if you want a tow? Can get you fixed up there." he offered, finally looking her in the eye. His own were sad and almost empty looking.

"How far is it?" Charlie asked him before softening her skepticism. "I'm gonna be late for work and it's my first day..." she laughed, throwing her hands up at the predicament she was in. Sometimes, you catch more flies with honey.

That was all it took. A little smile and she could see him relax instantly. "And you're having a hell of a day aren't you? It's just down the road. Teller-Morrow. Sure we could find someone to give you a lift there too." He told her, nodding in the direction of the garage.

Charlie almost choked when she heard him say it. Then she seriously considered telling him to get lost. He didn't seem as bad as the guy she ran into the other day though and it might take forever to get another tow. "You guys do good work?" she asked finally, narrowing her eyes at him with a smirk.

"Would I tell you if we didn't?" he fired back at her as the corner of his mouth turned up into a lopsided grin. Scratch that, false alarm, he wasn't a creep.

She stared Opie down for a second longer, one last ditch effort to let him know she wasn't a sucker. "Alright then smart guy. Hook her up." She said patting the hood and ushering him to do his thing.

He reached a big hand out to her and she extended hers back. He's caught off guard by the unexpected firmness of her grip, just as she had hoped. "Name's Opie."

"Charlie." She answered back, "Gotta make a quick call. I'll be in the truck."

A man of his word Opie got her there fast and Charlie was grateful for the comfortable silence they fell into on the short ride. She wasn't sure if he was a Son or a mechanic, or if there was difference, but she was about to find out. As they pulled into the lot she steeled herself as if she had ridden directly into the lion's den. For all she knew, she might have.

She hopped out of the truck and walked toward the garage. Dressed in skinny jeans, a blank tank top and sandals she pulled her sun-kissed blonde hair tighter in its ponytail before following Opie's lead. Charlie took off her sunglasses and replaced them with her best poker face as she looked around quickly. No one paid them any mind at first.

Then, suddenly, a whistle called out at her. She couldn't place its owner until a dark haired man in one of those black leather vests who looked to be in his forties sidled up to her. His patch said Sergeant at Arms. "Hey sweet thing." he said to her as he checked out her ass and made no attempt to mask his approval. "You look familiar, have I seen you… dance somewhere?" he added almost as an after thought.

"Why, do you recognize my ass?" Charlie asked him, genuinely curious. She'd been hit on in plenty of weird ways but this was a new one. He seemed the type that was completely unaware he was an asshole, or maybe worse, just didn't give a shit.

Opie rolled his eyes, clearly used to this behavior, "Play nice Tig. I'll be right back." he said before walking off into the office.

Tig turned his attention back to her, unfazed "Nope that's not it…" he said, narrowing his eyes.

At this point Charlie was pretty sure he was just fucking with her but just as she opened her mouth to call him on it someone beat her to it. "She's not a dancer. She's a runner." A low deep voice crossed the lot behind her, wiping his hands with a rag. She knew that voice. Turning her attention to its owner she eyed the stranger she ran into the other day. He was wearing a shirt that said Happy on the tag. _Is that supposed to be ironic _she thought to herself.

Happy's announcement had gotten the attention of the whole lot it seemed. Her instincts told her to panic. They were slowly and almost imperceptibly closing in around her like prey. It was an all too common situation for Charlie though and she took it all in carefully looking for a way to make a quick exit if need be.

Recognition dawned like a wave down the line of men. Some of them wore vests and others uniforms but it was obvious to her now that they were all part of the club. "That's it! The bitch from the other day!" Tig finally said shaking a finger at her and snickering at Happy.

"You told them I was a bitch?" Charlie laughed, raising an eyebrow at Happy. A guy with a close cropped mohawk and tattooed head joined the group just in time to catch what she had said. His eyes went wide as he looked from Happy to her and back again.

Happy on other hand was impossible to read. With no expression whatsoever he answered simply, "You _were._"

He was right about that and it made her smile wider. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was some kind of test. Looking around at the smug faces of the men around her she knew just how to handle it though. If they wanted her to run off with her tail between her legs they were in for a rude awakening. Instead she folded her arms across her chest and zeroed in on Happy. "How much did you lose?"

"Excuse me?" he asked, straightening up a bit. He scared her more than any of the others, by a long shot. Still, his change of posture confirmed her suspicions whether or not he meant to.

Charlie took a step closer. "How much money did you lose …betting on me?" she asked him as if it was obvious.

Eyes widened all around with confusion as they looked to one another for answers. Each responding with a shrug as if to say _it wasn't me_. Except, of course, for Happy who simply grumbled "What makes you say that?" at her, and folded his arms across his chest.

"I saw you standing there…at the gate. You were waiting for me to pass by so you could run into me on purpose." Charlie told him as she shook her head at him for doubting her.

Tig fought back a laugh, turning it into a not so subtle cough. The man on his left had a bushy beard and a round belly and did the same, adding "Darlin, accidents happen." with another chuckle.

Clearly she was on the right track so Charlie gave it one last shot, "I saw all of you guys too, watching. Like you had a vested interest in the outcome... So what was the bet? To get my name?" she asked no one in particular.

"This is gonna be good." Tig said as he swatted the back of his hand at the round man and nodded. There were half-hidden smiles now, all around the group.

Happy was the lone hold-out. He stared her down as she looked for someone to speak up. The guy with the tattooed head finally did, "He was supposed to get your number." He piped up with a grin, staring at his feet.

A glare like nothing she had ever seen shot at him from man he just sold down the river. "Way to go Juice." said the round man, smacking him on the back of the head.

"Well, clearly you need to work on your game a little sweetheart. How much did you say you lost?" Charlie said, words dripping with honey at Happy. She looked to Juice when she asked though, thinking her chances were better with him.

No one spoke up this time though as a pair of cold, dark eyes stared her down like she was a goner. Finally, out of nowhere Tig finally got tired of the game, "I bet him fifty bucks he couldn't get your number alright? It was just a joke sweetheart. Relax." he said to her, but Charlie wasn't the one who needed relaxing.

She nodded with a smile at Happy and shook a finger at him. "Be right back…" she called, running over to her car. After grabbing her bag and placing it on the hood of the tow truck she stood on her toes looking for something inside it. She missed the ogling eyes at her back, or so they thought.

With something in her hand she slung the bag over her should and walked over to Happy. Sticking a small wad of cash in his shirt pocket she smiled at him. It was a kind smile this time, a peace offering of sorts. "There, we're even." She said patting the pocket firmly. "Now… who do I talk to about getting a ride to work?" she said stepping away from him toward the office in search of Opie.

As soon as she turned her back Happy took out the money, tossing it on the ground. "Bitch." He uttered coolly, the same as their first meeting.

She chose to ignore it this time and Happy stalked off into the garage. Tig quickly grabbed the cash, bringing it to his nose and smelling it as he watched her walk away, stuffing it in his pocket when Juice looked at him like he was nuts.

Opie, whose timing appeared to be impeccable, walked out of the office just in time to catch her question. He looked at the dumbfounded faces of his friends and then to Charlie, lost as to what had just transpired. "Where you headed?"

"Charming PD" she answered matter-of -factly, relishing the moment.

That got her a raised eyebrow from Opie and though her back was to them, everyone else. She didn't want to spoil the satisfaction by telling them outright so she waited to be asked instead. "Why you wanna go _there_?" Opie asked her obviously guarded.

With a laugh she answered him, "Work, remember?" and turned to face the others nonchalantly. Not wanting to miss the look on their faces. "Officer Charlotte Lorenzo. Nice to meet you…"


End file.
